r
was I. There were about a dozen of us at table, and before dinner was
half over we were as sociable as if we had been bosom friends from
infancy. We even got to the length of warm discussion, and I heard some
sentiments expressed regarding natives and "native policy," with which I
could not agree; but, being ignorant on the subject at the time, I stuck
to general principles. It seemed to me that some of the speakers must
have been born with their brains turned the wrong way. This idea
recalls to memory the curious fact that, during my first walk in
Somerset, I saw a mounted Hottentot policeman wearing his helmet with
the fore part to the back, because its rear peak was longer, and a
better sunshade, than the front.

The same tendency to sacrifice appearance to utility is observable among
the Malays of Capetown, who treat their sou'-westers similarly.

My first visit to a native church was on a Sunday,--the hottest Sunday I
ever spent. The congregation was entirely black and brown. _It_, also,
was hot, so that the church was by no means cool. Whatever depth, or
want of depth, there might have been in the Christianity of these
people, the garb and the bearing of civilisation were very obvious and
very pleasant to behold. Their behaviour was most orderly and modest,
though, probably, many of them had gone there to display their finery.

Taking my place near the pulpit I saw them to advantage. The church was
pretty full. I sat down beside a very stout Hottentot girl, whose dress
of showy chintz was as much a subject of interest to herself as of
indifference to the congregation. There were marvellous contrasts and
surprising harmonies displayed in that church, with not a few discords.
Childlike good-humour sat on every countenance. When Mr Green ascended
the pulpit eager expectancy gleamed in every jet-black eye. When the
psalm was given out the preparatory clearing of throats and consequent
opening of thick red lips and revelation of splendid rows of teeth all
over the church had quite a lighting-up effect on the scene. They sang
heartily and well of course,--all black people do so, I think. Just
opposite me sat a young man with a countenance so solemn that I felt
sure he had made up his mind to "be good," and get the full benefit of
the services. His black cheeks seemed to glisten with earnestness; his
thick lips pouted with devotional good-will. I do not write in
ridicule, but merely endeavour to conv